


Blue Smoke

by lady_eowyn



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 1950s, Character Death, F/M, Fem!Bofur - Freeform, Fem!Ori - Freeform, High School AU, Most of them are students, New Zealand, Nobody Dies, Some of them are teachers, fem!Bilbo, kid!Fíli, toddler!Kíli
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_eowyn/pseuds/lady_eowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>similar and sort of ties in with a fic by realisticdreamer which i highly recommend!</p></blockquote>





	1. It's Raining and Everything is Grand

The rain hit the window in a _pitter-patter_ of song. The sky’d been a dull grey since they left Auckland, but the rain had only started as they’d entered the city limits of Middleton, New Zealand. Her father, Bungo, was sifting through one of the unpacked boxes that held the packed photo portraits of the family. And she-well, she was sitting in their new living room, waiting patiently for her cousin to arrive. “Bilba? Has Drogo not come yet?” Her father appeared in the doorway, limply holding onto his favourite portrait of Bilba’s mother. 

“No,” Bilba answered, somewhat solemnly. It’s not like she didn’t want to go out with her cousin, but… No, that was exactly it. The move from Auckland had taken months, and she’d wanted to spend her winter holiday with her friends at home- _there_ home, not here. But her father had insisted that they leave. With Bilba’s mother, Belladonna, gone, they had nothing to keep them in Auckland. Bungo had elected to move them back to his hometown, Middleton. It was a long ways from what she knew. 

Her father hummed. “Well, he’ll be along soon, I expect.” He stood awkwardly for a moment, and Bilba looked at him. He hadn’t been the same since the accident, obviously. They’d found out on Christmas, and it completely destroyed her father. She’d been alright, after the numbness had gone away, but Bungo… her father had always been the more emotional in the family. It was the only year Bilba remembered that Bungo had gone without planting his garden. The earth was left tilled in the little patch in the yard, and it stayed tilled until the winter rains rolled around and washed it all away. 

The death of Belladonna had led them away from everything that reminded them of her, save of what was in their belongings. Mother hated Middleton. Thought it was too stuffy and neatly trimmed. She had had a soft spot for Bag-End, though, which is where Bungo had decided to move. The little house had belonged to his parents, and Belladonna had absolutely adored it’s charm. 

 

Bilba never knew what her mother saw in the place. The wallpaper was old and faded, peeling in some places, there was a leak in the upstairs bath, and the bedrooms were really much too drafty for her liking. Its only redeeming factors were that it was very spacious for looking so small, it was in the middle of the neighborhood known as the Shire, and there was an oak tree situated right outside of Bilba’s bedroom window that looked like she’d be able to climb down it easily from her window. 

Bilba watched her father hesitantly place the photo of her mother on the mantlepiece, still lost in thought. The knock on the door brought her to her senses, and she saw her father perk at the idea of company. She stood, grabbed her cardigan from the back of the sofa before making her way to the door. Drogo Baggins was standing in the rain, holding an umbrella in his hand and a cigarette between his teeth. 

“Hallo, Uncle Bungo!” Bungo frowned at Drogo’s cigarette and dark, slicked back hair, but elected to not say anything about it. Drogo smiled and flicked his cigarette ash on the front step. “I would come in, but I don’t want to trek water on the floor, and I’ve got Primula waiting in the car. You coming, Bilba?” Bilba slipped her cardigan on and nodded, kissing her father on the cheek as she passed. 

“Don’t be out too late now, Bilba,” said her father with a wave as she stepped under the umbrella. The door shut with a click as she walked down the front path with Drogo. Cigarette smoke surrounded them in a haze through the rain. Water splashed over her saddle shoes and dampened her socks.

“How you been then, Bilba?” Drogo asked nonchalantly, taking a final drag from his cigarette before dropping it in a puddle on the sidewalk. Bilba shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself.  
“Alright, I guess. Uhm. Yeah.” Bilba _really_ didn’t want to talk to him. “You?” Drogo shrugged.  
“I’ve been great. Graduated. Got meself a car. Speaking of, you’ll have to sit in the back. Prim is next to me.” Bilba nodded as he swung the door open for her. “Be careful. Just got this baby.” Bilba rolled her eyes and slid in to the car, which heavily smelled of leather and cigarette smoke. The girl in the front seat turned around. She had her pale red hair up in a bubble cut so neatly curled and sprayed that Bilba expected that it took days to get it arranged. She stuck out a hand, pale yellow cardigan covering the smattering of freckles that Bilba could see under the hem of her sleeve.

“Hi. I’m Primula Brandybuck,” she said with a smile. Bilba took her hand and shook it.  
“Bilba Baggins. It’s nice to meet you.” Primula withdrew her hand and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.  
“You’re Drogo’s cousin, right?” Bilba nodded. The driver’s door of the car swung open and Drogo slipped in, handing his water-logged umbrella to Primula and turning the radio up. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Prim said with a small smile over the music. Bilba sat back with a sigh and watched the perfectly trimmed and painted neighbourhood go by in the rain as the lyrics of _That’s All Right_ swirled through the car. 

Elvis’s voice mingled with Drogo and Primula’s as they drove, rain muddling all the colors and lights together in the fading daylight. Drogo finally slowed to a stop in front of a brightly lit burger joint called Strider’s. He parked his monster of a Cadillac on the street and it’s engine stilled to a stop. “The boys should already be here,” Drogo stated before climbing out into the downpour.   
“The boys?” Bilba asked Primula as she dusted her skirt. Primula handed her an umbrella.  
“Drogo’s friends. They’re alright.” She gave a little shrug. “My friends will be here as well, so if you’d rather talk to them… yeah.” Bilba nodded as she stepped out of the car and opened the umbrella against the torrent. Thunder cracked as they raced into the restaurant. 

The smell of fried food, grease, and milkshakes hit Bilba in the face as Drogo dragged the door open. Bilba shook out her umbrella and put it in the basket, trying to stick close to Drogo and Primula in this unfamiliar burger bar. They slid into the red upholstered booth nearest to the windows, fifth from the door (Bilba counted), and she slid hesitantly in next to them. The sound of laughter and rock-n-roll filled the air as she finally settled in. 

There were three boys across from them, presumably Drogo’s friends. Primula turned to Bilba. “So, where are you from?” Bilba pushed her curls over her shoulder as the waiter approached their table.  
“We moved from Auckland after my Mum died,” she said, over the boys orders for milkshakes and fries. Primula ordered a chocolate shake before turning to Bilba once again.  
“What do you want?”  
“Erm. Strawberry, I think.” The waiter, scribbling furiously at his pad of paper, nodded at her order and walked back to the kitchens. One of the boys made a joke that triggered a round of sniggering from boys; the look on Primula’s face told Bilba that she was glad she hadn’t heard it. She cleared her throat and Drogo looked over at her, face suddenly lighting up. 

“How rude of me! I forgot to introduce you. Boys, this is Bilba. Bilba, this is Otho Sackville-Baggins and Paladin Took,” he motioned to the one on the inside of the booth opposite, whose dark brown hair had so much grease in his hair that it was shining where the light hit it, and to the one who was in the middle, who was wearing a sweater with a pattern that reminded her of her grandfather. They stuck out her hands and she shook them and waited for Drogo to introduce the boy one the end who was fiddling with his fork. “And that’s Hamfast Gamgee.”

Hamfast was somewhat smaller than the rest of the group, and his hair wasn’t slicked back, but he shook her hand with the same enthusiasm that the rest of them had. The waiter returned as the conversation started up again. The various milkshakes were slid across the table to their various owners, along with two orders of fries and a burger. Primula took a small sip from her chocolate shake while Bilba pulled her strawberry shake closer, condensation cooling her fingertips. “So, what grade are you in?” Bilba swirled her straw around her glass.  
“I’ll be graduating this year.” Primula’s face lit up.   
“Me too! Oh, we’ll probably be in a lot of the same classes. You’re going to Middleton Public, right?” Bilba nodded, cocking her head and sipping her milkshake.  
“Is there an alternative?” Primula raised her eyebrows and swirled her straw, giving a noncommittal _hm_.   
“There’s a private school right outside Middleton. It’s called Ered Luin. A lot of boys from Erebor go there.”  
“Erebor?” Bilba asked before sticking her straw back into her mouth. Primula nodded.  
“It’s a neighborhood on the southern side of town, not that far from the Shire, actually. They’re very close knit, even the ones who go to Ered Luin hang with the ones that go to Middleton Public.” The bell above the door jingled as the song on the jukebox switched over. Bilba glanced over her shoulder at the people entering. There were five of them; three guys and and two girls. “Who’re they?” Primula glanced over her shoulder, pushing her glasses back up her nose.   
“Oh. Alright, well. The smaller girl is Ori Reese, and the one with the braids is Bofur MacNeil. They both go to Middleton Public. I think I’ve got maths with Ori.” She paused for a moment, thinking, before waving her hand and continuing. “The shifty-looking readhead is Nori Reese, brother of Ori. The very tall, very muscular one with a scowl is Dwalin Burke.”  
“Does he always look that angry?” Primula nodded. “And who’s that last one?” Smoke coiled around his hands as he flipped open his lighter and lit his cigarette. Bilba could faintly hear him talk to his friends; his voice was the deep rasp of someone who sounded like they should be well out of secondary school, yet there he was, wearing a skin tight black tee tucked into his jeans in a burger joint, surrounded by people no older than she.   
“That is Thorin Oakenshield.”


	2. //An Announcement//

//  
Hiya. I'm sorry to say that this fic is on Hiatus until further notice.  
I don't want to take it down, but I also can't think of what to write for it next.  
(well, I can. I know, but I can't write.)  
I'll try to get back to this as soon as I can, but I've been blocked, and busy with school, reading, and other fics (Better Than All The Gold In The Mountain).  
Sorry, everyone!   
//

**Author's Note:**

> similar and sort of ties in with a fic by realisticdreamer which i highly recommend!


End file.
